Une étoile froide
Des lendemains
Tourne sur la Terre
Et tombe sur ma main
Blind Delon lurches back into the fray with the eerie Étoile Froide (Cold Star), a icy track that hums with bleak brilliance, pulling from the chillier corners of French post-punk while dragging it, frostbitten and furious, into the 21st century. Basslines coil tight like barbed wire, synths snap and shimmer like broken glass beneath a neon moon, each note nodding toward the genre’s godparents but spitting something fresh, serrated, and unrepentantly modern.
A Preview of their forthcoming new record BLAST, Étoile Froide moves like machinery, precise and poised, laced with both longing and lethal intent. A hymn to cold stars and colder hearts, the track loops like an orbit; its mantra a meditation on impermanence, where cosmic indifference brushes against bare skin.
Blind Delon dispenses with pleasantries, stacking New Wave nostalgia atop the bruised, brutal backbone of synthpunk ferocity. It’s a head-on collision, where the intimate slams into the infinite, all held together by their ice-veined romanticism. Picture Leonard Cohen’s languid lamentations welded to the relentless motorik of Grauzone or Kraftwerk; mechanical yet mournful, steel sweat-slicked and seething.
Étoile Froide arrives paired with a stark animated visual, pieced together by DanTV and Alison Flora. This isn’t decoration…it’s descent. A plunge into the panic-stricken psyche, spiraling through terrors both tangible and imagined. Like falling headfirst through Dante’s Inferno rendered in digital ink, each frame pulses with existential dread. Gerald Scarfe’s grotesque handiwork for The Wall hangs heavy over the piece, but scraped clean of satire, revealing something more brutal: the mind, cracked open, unraveled, undone. A reckoning in motion.
Watch the animated video for “Étoile Froide” below:
After a two-year silence, Blind Delon returns with BLAST, the fourth full-length release from Toulouse’s purveyors of post-wave desolation, helmed by Mathis Kolkoz since 2016. Borrowing its title from Manu Larcenet’s bruised and brutal graphic novel, this record doesn’t tread lightly. It lunges headlong into the murkier corners of the mind, balancing brutality with bleak beauty.
Imperfection isn’t polished away; it’s prized: aggression and elegance locking arms in cold confrontation. Blind Delon leans hard into their lineage, pulling from the skeletal urgency of old-school post-punk while injecting a venom of their own. Every track bristles: raw, romantic, ragged at the edges, inviting you to wade deep into disarray, to dance while the world collapses at your feet.
Listen to Étoile Froide below and order the single through Icy Cold Records here.
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